


Spring Dance of the Fluffy Bunnies

by Shutka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Boypussy, Crack, Cunnilingus, Feminization, First Time, Genderbending, Incest, M/M, Other, PWP, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Sex, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shutka/pseuds/Shutka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is maybe kind of a little in love with his brother, but he has it under control. Good thing Sam doesn't have a pussy. If he did he'd be irresistible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Dance of the Fluffy Bunnies

It's all the fault of that fucking leaflet.

Dean finds it stuffed underneath Sammy's mattress like a dirty magazine, only much better cared for, shiny and glossy and stamped with the big letters of a fancy college name. Dean crushes it into an ugly wrinkled ball in his fist, chucks it in the trash. Then he tells himself to calm down, it's nothing, Sam doesn't really want to go, this really is just like geeky porn for his giant brain.

But then Sam comes back from school and they have a row and it turns out it really is true and Sam really is making plans to abandon their family, to abandon Dean. He even admits it like it's nothing. Unbelievable.

Dean grabs his skinny matchstick arms and shakes him so hard Sam's teeth rattle and his head bounces back and forth so hard that for a horrible second it looks like it might snap. Sammy cries out once, in shock, and then sways on his feet silent and wide-eyed like he can't believe Dean did that to him. Sure, they rough-house as often as any brothers and then some, but this is in a whole different ballpark. Dean wants to hug Sam, push the feathery soft hair off of his brow and just kiss him there, to press his lips to Sammy's forehead where it wrinkles when Sam's distressed and to just rock him. It's wrinkled now, that spot. Dean doesn't do any of that, it's stupid, Sam isn't a baby and they don't do that anymore, and Dean is so freaked out by his own mad impulses he just pushes past Sam and takes off.

Not for long, he isn't gonna leave Sam alone for long. But he needs to cool his head before he does something really stupid, really out there. He'll come back later and apologize to Sam and then explain to him why he can never ever _ever_ go to college by himself. Sammy's just being his contrary pain in the ass self, he'll come around. He always does, eventually.

But no matter how much he tells himself that, Dean can't breathe easy. Sammy loves studying and being normal and being "safe" and a dozen other stupid useless associated things. What if the lure of college endures? What if Sam actually goes through with this insane plan? He's a smart little shit, he could get accepted into any school he wanted.

Here Dean's train of thought hits a brick wall at hundred and twenty. He can't imagine any more, it's too... He doesn't want to imagine.

Which is right when he passes by an old hag selling pears out of a crate in the trunk of her car. There's a hand-written sign propped up on the spare tire saying "get you're heart's desire 50c". Exactly that, "you're" and all (Sammy drilled him on the difference and that kind of epic bitchiness sure made Dean pay attention). The pears are bruised and squished-looking, but Sam likes pears and if he's munching on one he'll have a hard time whining back at Dean while Dean tells him what's what. Dean also likes the idea of having his heart's desire right now. It has a certain appear, as someone really lame and not Dean would say.

Anyway, he buys a pear for Sam, and the old hag says "make sure you really know your own heart before you bite into it, or the results may be unpredictable". Yeah yeah, Dean answers, and heads home. Aka the shitty motel room they're crashing at this week. 

Maybe if it was apples he'd have been suspicious. Or figs. Pears just aren't a suspicious fruit, ok? They are hilarious, like bananas.

So Dean brings the pear to Sammy as a peace offering except Sammy is in a real primadonna mood so they have another fight even more vicious than the last one. Sam barricades himself in the corner of his bed with his homework, and Dean sits on the couch with his back to him, drinking Dad's whisky. He can't even bring himself to go out and leave Sam alone, a part of him sure that his brother will bolt at the first opportunity. He can’t turn around and look at Sam either, because then he'll just get angrier. So he drinks and listens to the self-righteous scratching of Sam's pencil and feels sorrier and sorrier for himself. Sammy wants to leave him, can't wait to actually, and doesn't even feel any remorse because it's all _normal_ and thus justifiable in Sam's mind.

Well, screw that. Dean drinks, and at some point eats Sam's pear because Sam doesn't deserve a pear and doesn't want Dean's pear anyway. Dean's pear isn't good enough for clever Sammy, no, it isn't, and neither is Dean. So he bites into the pear on his bed, long after Sam has fallen asleep curled small, facing away from Dean. Even the curve of his narrow back looks distant in the vacancy sign light filtering through the window.

Heart's desire, yeah right. Sammy can never be normal, neither of them can. They know the truth about the world, know that the safe normal world is just a painted sheet people hang in front of the horror of reality to make themselves sleep better at night. Sammy wouldn't last, sooner or later he'd realize how silly it is to pretend the sheet is the horizon, but who knows how long that would take. If Sam is anything, it's stubborn. Maybe if Sammy was even less normal, maybe if there was something that could convince him once and for all that he'd never be normal, he'd stop trying. Something about him way more freakish than the hunting.

Like Dean's thing for Sammy, for example.

Which is nothing he'd ever think about sober or even halfway drunk, anything but three shits and a wind or whatever it was. But Dean isn't sober now and even though it's only a phase, a meaningless, brief phase that has lasted for more than a year now, Dean knows that Sammy could never harbor the illusion of being normal if he had the hots for Dean like Dean has for him. Not that Dean actually does, of course. Sammy's just so pretty, so girly, graceful and silky-smooth all over, and Dean's body is confused. He doesn't like dick, so he can't really like Sam. Because contrary to all other evidence Sam has a dick. If Sam had a pussy instead he'd be irresistible, so it's a good thing he doesn't. Mmm, a sweet, little Sammy pussy, pretty like the rest of him.

Dean passes out with the taste of pear in his mouth.

* * *

He wakes up because Sammy is screaming in the bathroom.

Not really screaming, but he definitely lets out a sort of cut-off high-pitched yelp that means things are bad but not getting his throat slashed bad. Still, the sound gets Dean right up.

"Sammy," he yells groggily, gun already in his hand and at the ready. He knocks on the bathroom door with the handle of the silver knife he has in his other hand. "What's happenin'?"

There's a two second silence and Dean's gearing up to kick down the door when Sam's voice comes through, high but sounding unhurt.

"Nothing, Dean. I just... had a little accident with the zipper."

Awkward. But also funny. Dean snickers, soundlessly, because he's an awesome freaking brother. He isn't even going to tease Sam about it until after lunch.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, fine. Go back to sleep."

"Sure you don't want me to run out and buy you some button up jeans to wear until you can handle dressing yourself, huh?" So he's starting early. This is golden, and lunch is ages and ages away.

"Fuck you too, Dean," Sam says, but the words stutter a little like he's still in pain or upset. Dean pauses in the middle of putting away his arsenal.

"You sure you're fine? Don't hide anything just cause it's embarrassing. If we gotta go to the ER or if I need to stitch your dick back on tell me now."

There's a curious mooing noise from the bathroom like Sam is trying not to laugh hysterically, or else like he's sunken into the depths of blackest despair and moaning out his last moans before drowning himself in the toilet.

"I think it's safe to say you won't have to stitch anything on my dick," Sam says.

Dean shrugs and goes to snooze until Dad raps on the door an hour later.

* * *

Sammy gets weird.

He's been weird since puberty hit, but now it ratchets up in specific ways. He doesn't want to undress around Dean at all, bringing his clothes to the bathroom. He locks the door when he takes a piss, and he uses the cubicles even in the grossest gas station toilets, the ones even Dean wouldn't touch with the promise of a blowjob by a truck stop waitress as an incentive.

He also looks down, like super down. Like he's gotten a D minus on a test down, though he hasn't. Dean asked. Sam doesn't even scoff at him for asking, just fidgets unhappily on the plastic diner chair and tugs on the overlong sleeves of his hoodie. He even obeys Dad's orders without talking back. Has Dad freaked pretty bad too, for a while, before he catches the scent of another hunt and leaves Sam for Dean to worry about, like always.

Dean tries to give Sam space, but he's getting the feeling something has Sam really worried and that has Dean really worried too, except Dean doesn't even know what the problem is which makes him extra worried and irritable.

So in the next motel room Dean looks at his moody brother and considers the prospect of a whole month alone with Sam the ray of sunshine.

"What got your giant mopey vagina all twisted up now, Samantha?" Dean asks, sharper than he intends, and Sam's jaw just drops open as if on hinges. Then he turns red as a tomato and looks _hurt_. His lower lip trembles. Dean feels like a tool. Finally Sam shouts.

"I don't know, Dean, how about the fact I have a vagina in the first place!"

The words ring out in the silence. Sam's face is suddenly taken over by an expression of horrified realization, and Dean imagines he must look like someone who didn't hear right because he's pretty sure he _can't_ have heard right. But then Sammy starts looking ashamed and drawing his knees close to his chest on the couch, and holy shitty cow burgers, he really does have a... something there.

Dean's gaze snaps down to the general direction of Sam's lap, and Sam blushes to the roots of his hair, his fluffy silky hair, and and and-

"You gotta show me," Dean says. He can't feel his lips and most of his extremities except one, the blood rushing to his dick so fast it's making him light-headed.

"What?! No! I'm not showing you that, Dean," Sammy says, all scandalized, looking like he's trying to dig himself an escape tunnel through the backrest with his shoulder blades.

"I gotta see, Sammy, gotta know what we're dealing with," Dean says, doesn't know what he's saying anymore except this is too weird to be reality, and if he's dreaming or gone insane he's damn fucking sure going to take advantage of that fact.

Sammy looks kind of shell-shocked as Dean manhandles him to one of the beds with a hand on his bony shoulder. He lets Dean throw him onto the mattress and lies there with his limbs flung every which way and his eyes giant and glinting wetly, before he toes off his sneakers without prompting and looks expectantly at Dean. Dean puts his fingers on his little brother's fly, fingers that are shaking, and Sammy makes a distressed little noise and grabs for the pillow, for the sheet, for the seam of Dean's jeans.

"It's all right, it's all right, Sammy, no big deal, I just wanna see," Dean says, breathy.

Sammy grabs at the pillow, pulls it on top of him and hugs it like a teddy bear.

"Promise you won't laugh," he says. "Promise, Dean."

Somewhere between a question and a demand and Dean nods, meaning it, as his fingers work the button on Sam's jeans open.

"Course not, Sammy," Dean says out loud, to reassure Sam further. He's pretty sure he's never been in a less laughing mood than now.

They both hold their breath as Dean pulls Sam's zipper down, and the room's so quiet Dean could probably hear the click of every individual tooth pulling apart if not for the mad rush of blood in his ears. That's where most of Dean's blood is right now, his ears and his cock, and he's not sure he could add two and two together if his life depended on it.

The zipper opens to reveal Sam's faded old underwear and a bulge, which is unexpected because the whole point is that there shouldn't be a bulge, or that the bulge that should be there isn't. Dean runs his fingers over it and feels it soft and rolling underneath the thin cotton. Sammy hides his face into the top of the pillow, mortified.

Dean reaches inside the waistband of Sam's underwear and pulls out the balled up sock. One of his. He was wondering where that old thing went.

" 'S ok," Dean tells Sam and flings the sock away, and Sam's giant glittering eyes peek above the edge of the pillow at Dean's face before darting away. He doesn't try to hide as Dean hooks his fingers under his underwear and gives a tug, and slides the whole thing, pants and boxers, down Sam's legs.

Dean doesn't look until Sam's bare from the waist down. He even takes Sam's socks off. Then he sits back on the bed, thumb working back and forth on Sam's smooth calf, tying to calm him or delay the inevitable. But then Sammy shifts, rubbing his thighs together, and Dean has to look, couldn't stop himself for the world.

Dean sees the mound first, just a smooth triangle and a hint of cleft where the folds of Sammy's new pussy are tucked in together. It feels like his heart is about to stop. His hands brush over the insides of Sam's thighs when he reaches out to part them. Sam resists for a fraction of a second before letting Dean do as he pleases, and Dean puts his rough palms against the unbearably soft Sammy skin and pushes his legs apart, and Sammy opens to his eyes like a flower.

It's so fucking perfect he could cry. Sammy's pink all over, cute bright pink growing richer at his center. There it all is, his tiny cherry-red clit, his delicate lips, his round little opening. The skin looks velvety smooth and Dean just has to feel it for himself. He runs a finger along the side of Sam's pussy and Sam moans, honest to god moans.

"Like this, Sammy? Did you touch yourself here?" Dean asks.

Sammy looks anywhere but at him, clutching onto the pillow for dear life, and shakes his head no almost imperceptibly. Dean's fingers rub back and forth, two now, the index catching a little on Sam's inner lips. Sam's breath hitches.

"Didn't catch that," Dean says. He's being mean but he wants Sammy to talk, he wants everything.

"I didn't- I-" Sammy swallows with a click. "I didn't want to think about it, I wanted to pretend it wasn't happening."

"So you didn't beat off, huh? Since this happened. Three weeks?" It was when Sam started acting strangely. Sam doesn't correct him. "Probably wouldn't know what to do with a pussy anyway. Don't worry, big brother will show you."

Dean pulls Sammy's pussy open with his thumbs, feeling drunk, high, in heaven. He can feel Sammy's scent already, a mouth-watering pussy scent, clean and fresh. He has no idea where to start, feels like a man with a nine-course feast before him and a single fork.

He takes a long lick over the whole thing, over Sam's whole pussy, Sam's whole little _cunt_ , from his scrunched up tiny asshole to the start of his concave little belly. There's a taste, a subtle tart sammycuntsammy taste and it's instantly addictive. Dean licks again, fastens his mouth on Sam's opening and tries to dip his tongue in for more of that taste, licks and sucks and probably presses his teeth too hard on Sam's delicate pink flesh. Dean meant to show Sam a good time, meant to treat him careful, but he's so dizzy with the whole assault on his senses he only wants to take, more and more.

He licks and laps at Sam, opens his mouth as far as it'll go and tries to suck the whole of Sam's pussy into his mouth, almost succeeds. He presses the flat of his tongue against Sam's quivering asshole, he suckles on Sam's adorable clit until Sam groans with discomfort and tries to twist away. It's too covered up, Sammy's clit, and he must be too sensitive here to bear much stimulation. Dean isn't disappointed though, Sammy is perfect in every way, Dean's delicious perfect brother, and his cunt is no different. It's almost like it was made for Dean. And why not? The rest of him is Dean's, Dean raised him, Dean molded him, Dean was always there since the day Sam was born, so why would this be any different.

"Sammy," he moans against the little groove where Sammy's thigh meets his torso, and Sammy seems to grow even wetter. It feels like Dean's whole face is covered in Sam juice. It's fucking great. "Sammy, I wanna fuck you."

Sammy and his pillow quiver at the word but neither protests, so Dean fingers the edge of Sammy's cunt. He tries to slide one of his fingers in, and it feels weird somehow, Sam's shiny new pussy not meant for anything as big and coarse as this, let alone a whole thrusting, tearing cock. But Sammy opens up to Dean, Dean's finger sliding in first to the first knuckle, then to the second. It's honey-sweet and tight and soft in there, and Dean kisses Sammy's sharp hip gratefully as he explores carefully inside Sam, not daring to move too much.

"Whatever, Dean, just don’t-" Sam says, looking gobsmacked and turned on and new and achingly familiar at the same time. Dean lays his head down on Sam, presses his face into Sam's tummy and breathes him in. He's not sure he can bear this, so much want and burning, desperate need, getting everything he was afraid to admit he wanted on a silver platter.

He can't wait anymore.

He pulls his hand out of Sam and sits back, and the separation is the worst thing ever but at least he knows it won't last. Sammy looks like the most beautiful thing that ever existed, all wild hair and knobbly coltish legs half-open like a tease, his long monkeyish toes curling and relaxing against the bedspread. Dean loves him so damn much he could just explode with it, too much feeling for one body to contain.

He scrambles with his own clothes, tugs his button down off by the back of the neck, opens his jeans and shoves them down. Sam's curious doe-eyes zero in on his dick and Dean shows off, pulling on it lazily with one hand, cupping the other over his balls to leave his cock standing long and proud. He is big, way bigger and thicker than average, and he knows he has no business sticking it in a fifteen-year-old pussy like Sammy's. God, Sam is _fifteen_ , Dean's baby brother who is fifteen, and Heaven help him Dean should stop cold at the thought, not grow impossibly harder at the same time as wanting to recoil, to save Sam from himself.

"You sure you want to, Sammy?" Dean asks, one final concession to his consciousness and his duty to Sam.

But then Sam's perfect, damp, berry-pink mouth forms a "yes" and Dean is lost.

Dean groans like a dying man and shifts forward on his knees. Sammy's still hugging the pillow like a lifeline, hiding behind it, but his lower half is bare and that's enough. Dean takes his narrow little hips in his giant mitts, thumbs fitting in the grooves of his hipbones, fingers splayed over his rounded little butt. Everything about Sammy is so slender and fragile, even when Dean knows how deadly Sam can be, how strong his compact, wiry muscles really are. Dean's _little_ brother, a sweet savage creature of near emaciated grace. The idea and image of it digs into some deep, animal part of Dean and clamps on, making him want to protect Sammy, keep him safe always and hold onto his precious body and fuck him hard and deep until Sammy is all his, only his.

He lifts Sam's hips off the bed easily, Sammy's body weighing nothing, and slides him onto Dean's lap. Sam's pretty mouth closes onto the pillowcase, sucking on it, worrying at it. His eyes are glassy-gleaming and dark but lucid where they're trained on Dean's cock.

Dean inches closer and Sammy wriggles his rump in place until they're sliding right close, the underside of Dean's dick pressing up against Sam's hungry wet pussy.

"Oh, God, Sammy, fuck," Dean mutters. He doesn't know what he's saying. Sam mumbles something through the cotton in his mouth but doesn't let go. Dean slides away enough to line the head of his cock with Sammy's hole. He presses in. Slowly, slowly, he has to go slowly because he can't hurt Sammy, and Sammy is making uncertain little noises.

"Shh, shh, I got you, Imma take care of you, good boy Sammy, doing so well," Dean keeps muttering affectionate, turned-on nonsense, except not nonsense cause he means every word. His cock makes room for itself in Sammy's tight little cunt, stretches and tears his fragile little hymen. Virgin little cunt, not even had fingers inside, and Dean's fat cock now just shoving rudely in. Dean circles his hips, sliding deeper inside. Sammy is so slick but it's still hard. That pink rim is pulled tight and painful-looking around the girth of Dean's cock, and Sammy's new insides spasm against the intrusion of Dean's cock like Sammy's body is shocked by the new sensations, like it can't figure out how to deal with them any more than Dean can.

Dean goes deeper than he thought he could, but not as deep as he craves. There's a final inch of him still outside Sammy, and he pushes in again and again trying to get it all inside Sammy but he can't, and it's agony. Sammy squirms on his cock, throws his head back and sobs, and Dean just goes crazy. Pulling back, thrusting back in, just giving it to Sammy nice and good. His dick is about to burn right out of his body, he's so hot, so out of control. Sammy gives tiny little pushes back against Dean, one of his legs twitching every so often like he's a sleeping puppy dreaming of chasing rabbits. The melting molasses heat of his cunt clutches at Dean and tries to squeeze him out at the same time, Sammy's cunt a tease just like the rest of his maddening little brother.

Dean fucks him and Sammy takes it, takes it all and Dean knows he's gonna blow in an embarrassing short time so it's a surprise when Sam loses it first. He spasms and shakes on the bed, growing even wetter, insides trying to milk Dean clean and damn if it doesn't work. Dean growls and folds over and empties his balls deep into Sammy’s cunt, almost blacking out from the force of his orgasm.

They pant in the sudden quiet of the room and usually this would mean it's all over. Dean should be getting soft, he should be getting his mind back right about now. Except that's not how it works this time. Dean's still almost as hard, still aches to be inside Sam. Sam’s slick as anything now with his orgasm and Dean's jizz, and Dean gives him another testing shove.

Sammy whimpers unhappily, hand pushing against Dean's shoulder.

"Want you again, baby," Dean says, and the word sits well on his tongue. He tries others. "Sweetheart. Sammy. Can I?"

Sammy's eyes hold Dean's, and it occurs to Dean he hasn't even kissed his brother yet. He tugs the stupid pillow away from Sam's slack fingers and bends close and breathes the same air as Sam. He rubs his lips on Sammy's, and they're exactly as tender and plump as they've always looked. It's Sammy who kisses him, tips his sharp little chin up and presses his mouth to Dean's. Dean pokes his tongue between Sam’s lips while the room swirls around them drunkenly. Dean wants to do this for the rest of his life, just kiss Sammy and keep his dick warm inside Sam's body.

He wants to feel more skin so he unzips Sam's hoodie, still kissing and stuffing him all the while, then lifts Sam's t-shirt up under his armpits. It's not enough, so he sacrifices a few seconds of kissing to get the shirt off all the way, and finally they're both bare. There's nothing between them, just like Dean's always wanted. He's so overwhelmed by it he has to tuck his head into Sammy's chest and just hold on. Sammy's lean arms encircle his head protectively, and Dean can feel Sammy kissing his hair with innocent affection. Sammy.

The guilt is a flood, sudden and inescapable, but all the same it could never rival the lust, the love, the sheer need.

"What are we doing, Sam?" Dean asks, muffled against Sam's skin. Sam makes him lean back with his hands on Dean's chest, frowns up at him.

" _You_ don't know?" Sam answers, and damn if the little shit isn't ready to sass Dean at any time. He says so and they both laugh and Sammy ducks his head a little, shy but grinning, and Dean might be scum but he doesn't care, he's going to squeeze every last drop of this happiness for as long as he can.

Dean starts moving again, this time belly to belly with Sam, Sam's mile-long legs wrapped around his waist. It's got to be uncomfortable for Sam, Dean doesn't hold back, fucks in and out hard, if slow, nudges up against Sam's cervix. Sam doesn't complain, just angles himself how he likes it and takes it, panting with his mouth open like a puppy and wearing a stupid blissed out expression that makes Dean feel stupid too, stupidly in love. And that's what this is, isn't it, he's got it so bad for Sam he can't even figure out when this whole thing started. He can't pretend it's all because Sam lost his junk, or because Dean's a pervert who'd get hard for any toned near-by body. It's so much deeper than that, so much more than they're prepared for, but they'll figure it out. Even if they end up having to _talk_ about it.

But that's for later, now Dean covers Sammy and lavishes kisses all over his face. Sammy blinks sweetly at the onslaught, and Dean kisses the tip of his nose twice in quick succession. He trails kisses along Sammy's clean jaw line, bites on his chin. Sammy’s lips gleam slick and open again and Dean seeks out his mouth helplessly. He circles his hips and corkscrews inside Sammy slowly, tying to fuck him without actually pulling back. He watches the subtle play of expressions on Sam's face until the sweep of Sam's eyelashes distracts him and he just has to kiss the seams of Sam's closed eyelids, then move on to his sweaty hairline.

Sammy's nipples are as pink and ripe as his lips and his cunt, and Dean latches onto one next. He sucks the tender nub, making it slippery, flicking his tongue over it until Sammy gasps and arches his back, pushing the little nipple towards Dean's mouth. It's pebbled up so hard it's like sucking on a tiny warm pearl. Dean suckles some more, switches to the other one, then blows on the puffy little thing, while his cock makes his home in Sammy's pliant pussy. Sammy makes such a good girl, takes being fucked so well, not like the usual Sam who always has to fight and be stubborn over everything.

"So good, Sammy, taking it so good and deep," he tells Sammy's nipple. Dean hates all this sappy shit with girls, never has these kinds of thoughts, but it fits that it should be so different with Sammy. It doesn't even give him pause to think Sammy's little nipple is like a freaking rosebud, that Sammy's flushed all over like he's made of candy floss and Dean wants to eat him up.

He tugs on Sam's nipple again, nibbling on it. Maybe it could even let out milk, if Sammy were pregnant. There's a crashing moment when Dean realizes maybe Sammy could get pregnant, now. Dean came inside him once already, and for all that he always uses a rubber with girls nothing in the world could ever make him use one with Sam. If there's any problem Dean will deal with it for Sammy, but he has to have his brother bare, nothing short of that would be enough. Dean moves faster, puts his back into it while he thinks about knocking Sammy up, putting a little bun in his oven. A kid that's both of theirs. The thought makes the base of his cock pulse, a knot of lust and possessiveness growing in the pit of his stomach.

That's something to think about later as well though, right now Dean doesn't want to share his brother with anyone, not even with a baby of their own flesh. Sammy should be his only, should be focused only on him.

"Dean," Sammy whispers. "Too much, slow down, Deandeandean."

He comes again, squeezing down like a vice and Dean slams into him a couple of times before he spurts helplessly. Sammy's made for Dean to fuck, didn't even need Dean to touch his clit before creaming himself twice. Dean must have said that out loud because Sammy says "Dean" again, mortified and chiding. Dean noses against Sammy's breastbone, this time growing soft, but still much slower than usual. He still doesn't feel satisfied, he suspects he can never be satisfied, never get enough of Sam.

So Dean nuzzles at his baby brother and kisses his slender throat and lips at the corner of Sammy’s mouth until they're kissing again. Dean wants to keep Sam plugged full of his come, and he also wants to eat him out and how does he decide these things when he wants everything.

Sam ends up flopped on his belly with his hair falling into his eyes, trying to stay on his elbows while his head lolls drunkenly because Dean is eating him out. Sam's used little cunt put away wet just like it should be, but not yet. There are traces of blood on Dean's dick and he soothes Sammy's rim softly, licking along the edge with his tongue while Dean's come slowly trickles out of him. Dean hitches one of Sammy's legs higher on the bed and trails his tongue over Sam's crack. Sam jumps and kicks out reflexively. Dean pins his thigh to the bed before swiping some of the mess of come and slick and feeding it to Sammy's asshole. The pucker lets him in while Sam lets out a breathy, shocked mewl and tries to crane his neck around to look at Dean.

Dean kisses the small of his back soothingly before going back to work. He wants to cram his dick in all of Sammy's holes, take each and take turns doing it again and again. Sammy's different here, both to a cunt and to the couple of girls' asses Dean's managed to worm his way into. There's more room, potentially, but it's also harder to get him to relax and accommodate Dean, but Sammy also seems really into it. His ass wriggles from side to side enticingly like he's trying to find the best fit for Dean's fingers, and then he practically yowls when Dean sticks his fingers as far as they will go and traces the inside of Sam's gut with the tips of them.

Good thing that for all of Sam's tightassedness there's no shit here. Dean's not sure he would have cared if there was.

Sammy sure likes it deep, even up the ass. He waves his little bottom in Dean's face and presses back against Dean, the knob of his tailbone bumping against the back of Dean's hand. Dean bends down to bite him there, to remind him to be patient. He needs to let go of Sammy to fish the lube out of his duffel, but he doesn't want to be this far apart. He laps at Sammy's cunt some more, fucking his asshole with three fingers now. It seems Sam's started leaking slick again, but it's hard to tell with all the come and wetness from their previous fucks.

Eventually he does go for the lube, stumbling, dick bouncing, while Sam lies on the bed like a discarded doll, narrow boyish thighs splayed open, head resting face down on his folded arms, elbows sticking out, ribcage heaving. Dean is so fucking insane over him. He drops the lube on the mattress, drops himself next to it.

He wants to fuck Sammy's ass bad, but he also wants to fuck him again up the cunt, and for all that he's being a selfish bastard he's not about to go from back to front on Sammy. He hovers above Sam, considering, staring at the vertebra sticking out at the top of Sammy's spine, just where his curls end.

Dean can't decide what he wants more so he goes for both. He takes Sam by the waist, flips him over - Sam huffs at being manhandled so - and opens his knees once again. This is quickly growing to be his favorite thing, watching Sammy's cunt blossom for him, pink and glistening and ready for Dean's cock to plunge in. He does just that, feeds his dick slowly into that addictive Sammy heat. Being inside is indescribable, the perfect fit and an itch he can't stand at the same time.

Sammy grips the back of Dean's neck to keep him close, hiding his face in Dean's neck and puffing out whiny little noses against his collarbone. Dean rubs his face against the silken top of Sammy's hair and kisses his curls, dick rubbing luxuriously against the walls of Sam's petal-soft cunt. It still bothers him that he can't fit his whole cock in there, so he folds up Sammy's Bambi legs, tucks his elbows underneath Sam's knees and gathers him up, sits back with his precious bundle. Sammy oomphs in surprise and clutches at Dean tighter, and Dean just holds onto him for dear life. Sammy's now in his lap, gravity pressing him down on Dean's cock, and that last inch of Dean is still not inside but it almost doesn't matter. Almost.

Dean bounces Sam on his cock, Sammy's hair bobbing and his legs floundering with the movement.

"I can't... anymore... Dean," Sammy breathes out in stops and starts, inner muscles fluttering over Dean in maddening contractions.

"Bear it for me, baby, please," Dean slurs against Sam's plush lips, kissing him, chasing his mouth again and again when their lips slide apart on every other thrust.

Dean meant to come like this and do Sam in the ass afterwards, but if Sammy really can't stand it that is off the table. It takes everything Dean's got to rip Sam off of him, to turn him around, drag him up on all fours. Sam's trembling, head hanging low between his arms, and Dean whispers "not long now, baby", and nudges Sam's perky little ass cheeks apart. The head of his dick prods against Sam's asshole, empty and hungry-looking, and Dean grabs himself in hand and feeds Sammy here too. Sammy wheezes pathetically while Dean's cock disappears inside him inch by inch.

He's tight, so fucking tight, his ass fighting Dean or sucking him in, doesn't matter. The inside is plenty wet for fucking but not nearly as wet as Sam's cunt, the walls sticking and molding to Dean's shape. He pushes in a little more. He's taking up so much space inside Sammy already. When it's down to that final inch Dean doesn't stop, just screws in and fits it all inside Sam, until his pubes are tickling Sammy's stretched little hole.

Dean groans at the feeling of completion, so feverishly hot he pitches forward over Sam's back. This brings the maddening bump on top of Sam's spine within reach of his mouth, so Dean sucks the back of Sam's neck while he fucks him. He stuffs Sammy's ass full and Sam thrashes on his cock and makes wild noises. Dean draws it out as long as he can, but then he can't help curling his hand around Sam's hip to slide the tips of two fingers inside Sam's drenched cunt, feeling the shape of his own cock as he thrusts into Sam's ass. Sammy comes so violently Dean would be worried he was having a seizure, except Dean's too busy busting his nuts in Sam to think anything.

There's an eternity of out-of-this-world, blinding pleasure, Dean unsure where he stops and his brother begins. When it's finally over - but not for good, never over for good, just for the time being - Dean collapses half on top of Sam on the bed, black spots dancing in his vision. His arm draws Sam closer with no input from his brain and they arrange their limbs clumsily until they're spooning. Dean runs his fingers over Sam's belly, feeling it jump ticklishly until Sam starts giving off faint shivers.

"Cold?"

"I guess."

Dean doesn't want to give up contact with Sam's skin, but the heating is shitty as hell and the window draft is more like a fucking breeze, and Sam's skin is starting to feel clammy already. He disentangles from Sam with reluctance and gets up to pick the covers from the floor.

When he turns around Sam's turned over on his back, his whole body on display. It's the first time Dean's seen all of him without the haze of arousal. Sam looks... not even beautiful, just impossible. Dean can't believe just hours ago he'd never touched Sam, never seen him like this. He gives Sam a goofy, brilliant smile, but Sam doesn't answer it, frozen like a deer in headlights. He'd been unselfconscious and sleepy just seconds ago, but he stiffens so quick it's painful to watch. He moves one hand to hide the place his cock used to be, trying to put his other forearm over his eyes. Dean sits down on the bed and catches the arm covering Sam's face.

"Hey, none of that," he says, holding Sam's hand between his own. Sam's face looks pinched, miserable, and he refuses to meet Dean's eyes. "Talk to me, Sammy."

Sam's lips open and close several times, before he says, in a voice that screams that for once it's Sam who's averse to talking, "I knew you'd think I'm a freak."

Dean squeezes Sam's hand, then thinks _fuck it_ and raises it to his lips to kiss the palm. Sam blinks up at him in confusion, like he can't believe Dean just did that.

"You're not a freak," Dean tells him. "You could never be anything less than awesome, you hear me."

Sam looks like he's fighting with himself some more, letting Dean hold his hand while he ponders away.

"What if I never get back to normal? I wanna get back to normal, Dean," Sam whispers eventually, sounding like he's trying to convince himself as much as Dean.

"Course you will. We'll figure it out in no time," Dean promises.

Sam's mouth twitches, like he's not sure if he should smile, or thinks he should but can't bring himself to. He turns on his side, towards Dean.

"What if we don't? What if I'm stuck like this?" Sam presses on.

"Then it's fine. You're fine like this."

He can see Sam processing this, the gears turning behind that mop on his head. The hand Dean is not cradling is now more naturally wrapped around his middle instead of serving as a cover.

Dean reaches back for the comforter, lies down next to Sam and covers them both. It's ok to do that now, Sam would have seen it as a sign of disgust before.

"You like me better like this," Sam says, softly. It's not a question, not an accusation, just a fact.

"I liked you before too," Dean tells him. It's hard to admit, especially when he knows that Sam's own feelings for Dean, whatever they are, weren't enough to stop him from planning his bright future without Dean.

Sam sighs and hugs Dean, sliding down on the bed until he can fit his head underneath his chin. It's hard to believe sometimes he's almost as tall as Dean now. Dean holds him back, maybe squeezing him tighter than he should. Sam doesn't complain.

"I'm still going to college," he declares, and before Dean's heart even has the time to accelerate, continues. "But I'm taking you with me."

With dawning horror Dean realizes he's not even that opposed to the idea.

Not even after Dean remembers the old hag with the pears and the remote, totally outlandish possibility that this all might have been partly his fault. But only partly, it's only fair that the leaflet should take the lion's share of the blame. Not even when Sam calls him an unbelievable asswipe and tries to knee him in the nuts. Whatever, Sam is just jealous that he has no nuts of his own anymore.

That's not how it happens though.

Six months later, when they still haven't found any sign of the pear lady and Dean has had to drive Sam to a fucking OB/GYN for a checkup and has even started contributing ideas to Sam's "break out the college thing to Dad" plan, while sticking it inside Sammy every time their dad so much as turns his back, it occurs to Dean that he should be kissing the ground under that leaflet's non-existent feet.

That leaflet is a fucking hero.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought about my fic, I'd really like to know.


End file.
